Journal Inscriptures
by cosmicrays
Summary: Darren uses his journal to write about the horrors of a little something called love. Short "journal entries" describing instances when Darren must face his feelings for his mentor. Crepsley/Darren


I started listening to love songs while trying (and failing) to find more than just one or two decent Crepsley/Darren stories I haven't read already. Come on guys, you seriously should ship these two more. :T

Anyways, I got the impulse to write something short and sweet. WHO HAS TWO THUMBS AND LIKES WRITING IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT? This girl.  
Recognize, mo'fuckassss~

By the way, I'm 98% positive I'm going to continuously add short "journal entries" such as this to the story in later chapters. Depends on the feedback I get from this one.

* * *

It was hard to grasp the concept that I had fallen in love. When I finally realized this, a whirlwind of emotions hit me. Confusion, frustration, annoyance, hopelessness, _happiness, excitement, _and finally _relief_. I was relieved that the conflicting thoughts I had for the past months, possibly even _years_ could now be explained by this simple fact. Of course, it also presented an entire new list of problems. I decided I would cross those bridges in time.

However the problem that I couldn't ignore or set aside was exactly it was with whom I had fallen in love. To be clear, I was never in love with Debbie Hemlock, and she is certainly not the person that had stolen my heart (yes, I used that cheesy line) now. It was a crush, a young pre-teen's infatuation for a girl. Debbie was cute, sweet, and had spunk to boot; but a boy at the age of twelve (Or thirteen, I can't really recall and not to mention I still possessed an eleven year old boy's body) couldn't possibly hope to experience true love. I didn't want her to be hurt, especially if it was my fault. After the accident with Sam, I swore I would never allow my friends to be harmed because of my carelessness again.

No, I had never been in love until this point. Or rather, I had been in love without failing to recognize this feeling until this point, it being my first time. And never in a thousand years did I expect fall for the person I had. I can hardly believe it right now! So if grasping the concept that I was in love was hard, grasping the concept that I was in love with _him _was going to be next to impossible.

"Darren!" He called my name as I finished describing to you my troubles. I felt a jolt in my chest when I heard his voice. He found me sitting in a pile of cushions on the ground of my small tent. Truska had fashioned them just for me, and they were deliciously comfortable. I held my journal in my lap, my knees folded and close to my torso so I could write **and** keep my writings private. Luckily Mr. Crepsley was illiterate (something I should probably address at some point in time, I mean the man should be able to read by now), however that didn't mean other circus members weren't curious about the contents of my journal.

"Yes?" I answered him.

"Ah, there you are! I began to wonder if you were hiding from me." He grinned in a joking manner. My heart fluttered, and I felt my cheeks betray me when warmth crept onto them.

_Oh, _I have it bad.

"Maybe I was?" I responded, joking with him while trying to not sound nervous. What is it, now that I've discovered my feelings for the blasted man, I can hardly even talk to him without almost passing out? Ridiculous, I tell you.

"Well, I have found you, and now I must steal you away from your journal. We have important matters to take care of tonight." I found it hard not to find an alternative meaning to his words from what he really meant. At the thought, I blushed. Hardcore.

"Not more prince stuff, right?"

"Actually, we need to feed. You have not had proper sustenance since we arrived at the circus almost a week ago. I myself am feeling… parched."

Of course, something blood related. "Don't we have any left in the bottles?"

"I am afraid not. I drank the last of it when we flitted here." He offered me an apologizing look before adding, "Besides, fresh blood is tastier and better for you."

"Ugh, you sound like my mom or something," I groaned. "Well, in a twisted sense of the word I guess."

Mr. Crepsley chuckled. "Come, Darren. Finish your writing and let us depart."

Well journal old pal, hopefully I'll return alive and not have a Crepsley-induced heart attack during our feeding trip. Damn that man.

…

PS, _but not really._


End file.
